“Unhappily,” replied Dr. Wilkinson, “I cannot take a mere assurance in the present instance. Had not the case been so palpable, I should have been bound to believe you until I had had reason to mistrust your word—but with these facts I cannot, Louis;” and he added, in a very low tone, so as to be heard only by Louis, who was much nearer to him than the others, “Your honor has not always been sacred—beware.”
His school-fellows wondered what made the red flush mount so furiously in Louis' forehead, and the tears spring to his eyes. The painful feelings called forth by his master's speech prevented him from speaking for a few minutes. He was roused by Dr. Wilkinson saying—
“The discovery of this Key in your possession would involve your immediate dismissal from the second class, a sufficient disgrace, but the matter assumes a far more serious aspect from these assertions of innocence. If you had not used the book when discovered, it must have been taken either by you, or another, for use. The question is now, who took it?”
“I did not, sir,” said Louis, in great alarm.
“Who did, then? Were any of your class with you?”
“No, sir.”
“Was any one with you?”
Louis paused. A sudden thought flashed across him—a sudden recollection of seeing that book passed over and slipped among his books; an action he had taken no notice of at the time, and which had never struck him till this moment. He now glanced eagerly at Ferrers, and then, in a tremulous voice, said, “I remember now, Ferrers put it there—I am almost sure.”
“Ferrers!” exclaimed the young men, with one voice.
“What humbugging nonsense!” said Salisbury, in a low tone.